Elixir
by headintheclouds120
Summary: The Capitol's people's minds are being brainwashed by a drink called Elixir that they feel compelled to drink all the time. What happens when a young citizen discovers its true purpose and the withdrawl effects  the Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins


Red or purple? The holograph labels on each bottle simultaneously play a video of me drinking from them, then giggling as my hair changes color. The only difference being my hair turning a ripe plum purple or a cherry red. I sigh and toss them on my bed. I can make the hard decisions later.

I run across my bedroom's catwalk and the down the stairs to the first level, towards my Hunger Games closet. I've been collecting outfits the entire year, solely for these magical weeks. Maybe the shimmery aqua dress, inspired by the one a girl from District 4 wore last year. I squint my eyes trying to remember her name, but can't even picture her face. All I remember is wanting her dress. She probably died early. I shrug and toss the dress on to my winter bed. Ocean is out anyway. So is Fire, and so is my entire closet.

Groaning, I flop on my winter bed. My entire head seems to be spinning. Why do we have the Hunger Games anyway, all it brings is stress. I grab a cup, fill it with Elixir from the dispenser, and take sip after sip until my mind is clear. Once I've drained the entire cup, I'm excited again for the H Games premiere tonight. I had been wrong about the stress, it's just pure excitement.

After much self debate, I finally choose a simple black dress with a constantly swirling constellation pattern on it. Prodding the green button on the hanger, I feel an electric jolt, then the soft massaging fabric on my body. Carefully lifting the hem, so it won't collect gold dust from the carpet, I pad over to the jewelry box on the second level. I pull out a replica Mockingjay pin from its velvet depths and pin it to my dress. The dress comes with its own makeup and hair style, I peek in the mirror. Perfect. I look perfect.

I step out into the glass elevator and tap Main Hall. I chug the red bottle, lounging on one of the elevator's silk couches as I wait to reach my destination and my hair turns red. This week, the walls are decorated with holo-stills from our trip to the District 1 shore. My brother had been so scared to go in the water, even when we assured that there were no fish in the lake. Catching a glimpse of the dining room table as the elevator whizzes by, I see servants laying out plates heavily laden with food and drinks. We're not eating at home tonight, but my mother likes to have our table set up with food anyway for decoration.

I think about all that food, I start to feel guilty, because I know the Districts don't have as much. Sometimes they have to skip brunch or linner and they don't have any VomitShots. Also, they have to watch their citizens die and celebrate about it too. Hmmm. I'd never thought about it like that. It must horrible, watching people die. That's when I realize, that's exactly what I'm about to do. A sinking feeling creates pits in my stomach.

Maybe some Elixir will help. I can nearly taste the rainbow-frothy-relief it will bring. But the elevator dispenser is empty, not a drop trickles out. That's weird, oh well, I'm not even thirsty anyway.

I meet my family in the Main Hall and we set out to our seats on the city green. The hundred story screen glows with seal of Panem. The pits keep growing in my stomach, my head seems to clog full of fog, my fingers shake. I'm about to order some Elixir when the crashing boom of the opening chords of the anthem play. The crowd erupts in applause; it seems as if a thousand hammers are pounding my skull. What is happening to me?

The camera pans the sunny sky and trickling water. It zooms from a tight shot of the Cornucopia, out to the horseshoe of silver tribute circles. Dramatic music plays as the screen pans each tribute's focused face. Had their eyes always been so hollow? Why could I see their bones?

My head throbs, my heart pounds, my skin prickles.

No. No. No.

Tired flesh, unmarked graves.

Throb. Pulse. Pain erupts in my chest. I lean forward and clutch my heart.

The camera reaches a small girl, I can see the bones in her arms. A husky boy, he's missing an ear.

A girl, with a scarred face

A boy who is crying.

Bones that kill, for the approval of my city.

They have lives, they have families. Families who are sitting in front of the TV right now with fear in their hearts, I can see their faces. Fear. Hatred. Solemnity.

Twitch. My head throbs. Whish. My eyes buzz.

Now they're moving, off the disks. The mines explode behind them. The scarred girl never makes it off. Blood and fire, as she is ripped limb from limb. The Capitol "ahhh's" and claps. They see an explosion. I see the girl's family. Hollow with hatred for the Capitol. For me.

I rise from my chair and run up the aisle. A Peacemaker grabs me and shouts.

"Girl, attendance is mandatory!"

I find the strength to shove him away and I keep running. The tears burn my face. Evil. That is what I am watching. I smell Elixir as I stumble towards a black building opposite the screen. Waiters are convening outside with trays, ready to take orders. My mind rattles.

Their bones, you could see their bones.

I find myself in the darkness off the building, dim light streams in from vents in the ceiling. Giant hollow drums line the wall. They smell so good.

I hear the crowd ahhhh and applaud again. Another box will be on the train tonight.

I feel less groggy as I get closer to them. There is something alluring about that scent.

One is marked "Elixir: Regular Citizens and Children" upon dipping my finger into the top of the drum, I find it tastes like the stuff I had been drinking earlier. Footsteps rumble by and I sink into the shadows. So good…

The scent is so appealing, my head throbs less. Only a sip…

No. I can't do that. Whatever state of mind I was in when I drank this stuff must never come over me again. I stumble to the next drum, hungry for the answer.

Its scent smells of blood. Just inhaling it feels me with hatred. Its marked "Torture Specialists and Scientists."

No. This is not happening. This isn't true.

Another cheer and applause.

They have lives. They have families.

Next drum. A scent that fills me with a hunger for power. "Government Officials."

It can't be.

Another cheer.

Blood and fire. Torn flesh.

"Hey!" I turn to find a battalion of Peacemakers.

"Come on honey. Let's get you something to drink. You and me will go away for a bit and make you forget this ever happened." I shake and tremble as I back away.

"No. I know a-a-about this." I make what I hope is a gesture towards the drums. My head is screaming.

An erupting cheer echoes far away.

The speaker reaches out and strikes my face hard. The vented lighting shows his dark, maniacal face.

I run.

Past the row of drums, up the stairs. Shaking and trembling the entire way. My face seems to be doing a 180. I can taste blood in my mouth.

I run out of steps and a roar fills my ears and a light blinds my eyes. The room holds a scary black machine, the wall opposite it is open. I'm in the projector room my shattered mind realizes. The thunderous machine shoots out a beam of light the size of twenty horses toward the screen outside.

Another cheer floats up from the audience. I try not to picture the box they will send the tribute away in.

I can hear heavy boots climbing the stairs. It won't be long now. They come faster then I expect, weapons poised ready to shoot, not a trace of mercy on their faces.

I back up towards the hulking projector. The giant beam of light sits just above me. My heart seems to quake violently. My fingers feel like the entire weight of Panem is on top of them.

"Come on now, we now bad you're feeling. Withdrawl symptoms are horrible, but we can help. Come with us, we'll make it go away. We can make this disappear."

Every tributes face flashes before my eyes, every death I have watched, every mindless interview, every wish for their hair, their eyes, their wardrobe. They had been nothing to me, they hadn't been real.

"Last chance sweetie." His voice sounds a million miles away. The air catches in my lungs, my brain is filled with smoke, my intestines lurch violently. Elixir. Elixir, my mind seems to say.

_We'll make it go away._

I reach down and rip the Mockingjay pin from my dress. It seems to radiate strength throughout my entire body.

"No!" I shout at the top of my lungs.

I raise the pin to the beam of light, and momentarily, a hundred story tall mockingjay's shadow blocks out the death and destruction. My body seems to collapse in on itself. I drop to the ground.

I can swear I hear a Mockingjay cry just as my heart stops beating.

**Another note about this story- it's a one shot, I have no intention or interest in continuing it, I know some people have been asking me to update and I just want to say that that probably won't happen.**

**I hope you enjoyed my story, even though I won't be continuing, please give me some concrit for future stories. Thanks. **

**-headintheclouds120**


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